


there's a dance that we do, me and you

by ekbelfield



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Carjacking, F/M, First Meetings, ballet lessons, wise Diggle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5807704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekbelfield/pseuds/ekbelfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The vigilante saves a ballet instructor from a carjacker.  When he wants to see her again, he decides he needs ballet lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's a dance that we do, me and you

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> So I had this idea, I swear, before Tyler Shields shared the photo of Emily in _that_ pose. I saw it and was like, this is a sign I need to finish this. And then I got snowed in, so I had lots of time haha.
> 
> This is an AU, I had to play with the timeline because Sara Diggle needed to exist.
> 
> I hope my fellow east coasters are staying warm with lots of fic! And if you are not in this snow storm, know I am very jealous of you (it took me two hours to dig out my car. Seriously. I hate snow.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Felicity Smoak walked toward her car, blonde hair pulled into a tight bun which miraculously only had a few strands pull loose after a long day of teaching ballet to toddlers. Her mind was a million miles away, thinking of the computer programming she needed to accomplish before she returned to her dance studio tomorrow. Her distraction was what probably allowed a man to approach her from behind without her noticing as she walked toward the driver’s side door.

Felicity was just reaching for the driver’s side door handle when the world tilted, as she was grabbed and spun around. Her purse went flying, scattering her belongings across the street as she was shoved into her car with enough force to knock the breath out of her with a grunt. Her arms were pinned at her sides as a large man crowded her small frame against her car. She could barely get her bearings when she felt the sobering coldness of a knife at her throat.

“Give me your keys, and I might let you live.” A deep voice hissed into her ear, the assailant’s hot breath against her face making her wince.

“Might?” She gasped out involuntarily, causing her attacker to redouble his grip on the knife at her throat, causing Felicity to sputter out. “Sorry, sorry. I babble when I’m nervous. Here, take the keys, please don’t kill me.” Her babble started as a plea and ended on a whisper. She was just lifting her right arm from where it was pinned at her side, keys jangling with the motion, when her world tilted for the second time in as many minutes.

The force that was holding her upright against the car had suddenly been pulled away, causing her to slump down against her car. She looked up, surprised to see the vigilante pummeling her assailant to a pulp. She was too shocked to move, so she watched, stunned, as the vigilante zip tied her attacker’s wrist behind his back, and moved his body to a nearby alley.

Felicity expected the vigilante to disappear now that she was out of immediate danger, so she was especially surprised when a minute later he was kneeling in front of her.

“Are you alright?” His modulated voice was obviously unnatural, and yet Felicity could sense genuine concern in his demeanor.

“I… yes, I think so. Thanks to you.” He ignored her gratitude, instead offered a hand to help her up. She placed her small, shaking hand in his, and he pulled her up, steadying her on her feet. His eyes scanned her, almost as though he were x-raying her for injury, before he turned away from her.

_This is when he leaves_ she thought. Instead, she watched mutely as the vigilante began picking up her scattered belongings from the road. He retrieved her purse, where it had landed near her front tire, before moving around and collecting her stuff, completely unashamed at retrieving her tampons and birth control. If Felicity didn’t know better, she would have thought he smiled as he retrieved her last remaining possession, a tube of bright pink lipstick that matched the shade she was currently wearing.

When he returned to her side, he held her bag out as though she were a skittish animal, primed to run at any moment. When Felicity took the bag wordlessly, he finally spoke again.

“Are you going to be okay to get home?” Again, Felicity was struck by the care he was able to convey despite the modulated voice.

“I think I’ll be okay, I…” She studied his countenance. “Are you going to follow me home regardless of how I answer that question?”

He tilted his head, and she could swear she could see light glinting off of his white, smiling teeth. She held out her keys, hands still shaking.

“You can drive.”

***

Oliver eyed the mini cooper dubiously from under his hood as the cute blonde handed over her keys. She must have sensed his doubt, because she immediately broke into a babble.

“I know, it looks small, but this car is actually highly recommended for tall drivers, I promise.” The woman prattled on about a tall ex-boyfriend who drove her car frequently as she opened the driver door, adjusting the seat, before stepping around the car as she got in on the passenger side.

Oliver passed his bow to the woman through the open door before he folded himself into the small car. With a bit of adjusting he was surprised to find that the woman was right, there was a surprising amount of room for his limbs in this car. He tuned back into her words.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m going on about my ex when you just saved my life, still running on adrenaline I guess...” She trailed off, before glancing over at him. She seemed to read his pleasant surprise in his body language because she laughed, a beautiful, tinkling sound. “See, I told you that you would fit.”

He looked over at her, taking in how small she looked holding his overlarge bow in her lap, her frame made impossibly more vulnerable by her still shaking hands. He didn’t understand why he so wanted to reach over and take her hands in his, the lingering ghost of her small fingers dancing along his skin from when he had helped her up. He reigned in the impulse, flexing his gloved fingers on the wheel.

“Where to?” his modulated voice asked.

She gave instructions to her apartment building. _In a nice part of town_ he thought in relief, glad this gem of a woman didn’t live near where he’d stopped her from being the victim of a carjacking. He was broken out of his musing by her voice.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so rude. I’m Felicity. Felicity Smoak. I teach ballet in the Glades, that’s why I was parked where I was parked, someone was in my usual spot in front of the studio this morning.” She paused, and it seemed to finally hit her what had almost happened to her. “Thank you for saving me.” Her voice was small; he could sense she was maybe on the verge of tears.

“You’re welcome, Felicity.” The modulator didn’t do justice to the way his lips caressed her name, but somehow Felicity could sense the softness in his tone.

They rode the rest of the way to her apartment in silence, before Oliver pulled her car into the underground garage of her apartment building. He got out of the car first, before wordlessly opening the passenger door for Felicity, swapping her car keys for his bow.

He could tell she kept expecting him to disappear, but she looked so vulnerable he wasn’t ready to leave her until he knew for certain she was safe. He walked her to her front door, and was surprised when Felicity lingered on the doorstep.

“Thank you, Mr. Hood? Mr. Vigilante? What are they calling you these days?”

He huffed out a laugh, something the modulator couldn’t translate.

“The Arrow. They’re calling me the Arrow.”

She smiled, and his breath caught.

“Thank you, Mr. Arrow.”

He watched as she unlocked the door, disappearing inside with one last glance back at him.

“You’re welcome, Felicity” He replied to her as she closed the front door.

***

A couple of days later, Felicity was back at the studio, locking up after her last class of the night. She had some paperwork to fill out, processing some new sign-ups for the next season of classes, so she killed the lights in the studio and walked through the dark toward the lit office in the back of the space. 

“Holy shit!” She had made it about halfway when a figure emerged from the shadows, causing her to shout in fright. He was backlit by the light from the office so she could only make out a silhouette, but he quickly realized it was the man who had saved her a few days before.

“Oh my god. You scared the daylights out of me.” She panted as her heart rate slowed, hand to her chest as she tried to steady her breathing. “What are you doing here?”

He seemed to be rather hesitant, and that caused her panic to ramp back up. “Is something wrong? Is that guy back?” At her urgent question he stepped towards her, hand out in a placating gesture.

“No, no, nothing like that.” The modulator’s harsh tone was at odds with his posture. Felicity was just confused.

“Well, then why are you here?”

His hand dropped and she could sense him fighting off a shrug. “I was hoping you could teach me ballet.”

Felicity sputtered, laugh dying as she realized he was serious. “You what? Why?”

Felicity could tell he was reluctant to explain, but she couldn’t wipe the dumbfounded expression off of her face.

“Ballet helps agility, right? Athletes take ballet to improve on the field all the time. I’d like to improve in the field, too.” His shoulders slumped as he finished, his body taking on a posture that Felicity had never seen before. _Defeat? He must really need help._

“I mean, that’s not totally ridiculous, actually.” Her words made him relax. “I just, the way you handled that guy the other night, I can’t imagine what I could do that would help you.”

His posture seemed to lift as he realized she was willing to help him.

“Trust me, you’d be helping.” The modulator leveled out his words, but somehow Felicity could tell he meant them.

“Well, alright then. But if you think you can learn ballet in that leather outfit, you’re out of your mind.”

Felicity watched as his silhouetted arms moved up to unzip his jacket. Felicity froze as she realized he was undressing. She was unable to move or speak, she could only watch numbly as he divested himself of his leather jacket, revealing a tight white T-shirt underneath. She cursed the poor lighting, the backlighting from the office keeping the front of his body in shadow, but she could see the outlined of some significant muscle definition in his arms and torso.

He lifted the hood up and off, and though she was curious, she averted her eyes. There wasn’t enough light to make out his identity, anyway, but Felicity knew she didn’t want to spook him. His hands went to the zipper on his leather pants and Felicity had to rein her thoughts in from avenues she should not be thinking about with a stripping vigilante in front of her. Her mouth dropped open when she realized he was wearing tights under his leather pants. _He came prepared._

He piled his leathers neatly next to him, placing his bow on top, before turning to her. It was at this point that Felicity realized that he was no longer wearing his voice modulator.

“So I guess you can’t talk then.” There was no light on his face to make out his features, but she could see him shake his head.

“Well, alright. I guess we’re doing this.” She reached forward and took his hand, leading him toward the mirrored wall at the front of the studio. She kept him with his back to the office, the low light making it so she could see the shadows and lines of his body, but leaving her unable to decipher his identity.

“Well, I guess if you can’t talk, you can’t argue. That’ll make a nice change from the toddlers I usually teach.”

He huffed out a laugh in spite of himself, and she smiled brightly up at him, even if she couldn’t see his face.

She taught him for about an hour, going through the most basic of lessons, and she realized his strength and body awareness was unlike any other student she’d had before. She probably said as much, babbling away to fill the silence between giving him instructions. When she told him they’d finished the first lesson, she watched silently as he returned to his leather pile, pulling the suit back on, and restoring his ability to speak.

“Thank you, Felicity. Here” He held out an envelope to her.

“Is that money?” She asked. He nodded. “Oh no. You don’t have to pay me. Consider this a ‘you saved my life’ discount.” He looked hesitant, hand still holding out the envelope insistently. “Mr. Arrow.” She giggled a little at the name. “You’ve already done something for me that I can’t repay. Keep saving the city. That’s more than enough.” She thought for a moment. “Though, if you really insist on paying me, I couldn’t say no to red wine.”

He nodded wordlessly, pocketing the envelope. “Good night, Felicity.” He disappeared into the shadows. Felicity stared at the spot he had disappeared into for a moment before shaking herself.

“So, is that going to be a regular thing?” She asked the empty studio as she made her way back to the office to finally begin her paperwork.

***

Oliver was smiling as he returned to Verdant that night, descending into his secret lair with a spring in his step that was usually a bit more rusted. He glanced up, and immediately knew his partner, John Diggle, had noticed his demeanor.

“I have never seen you smile this much, man.” Diggle said, hiding his own smile. “The drug dealers sharing their wares tonight?”

“Ha. Ha.” Oliver replied sardonically. “No. I. I- uh, I just had a…” He trailed off and Diggle immediately realized what had Oliver so loose and happy.

“You went and saw Felicity, didn’t you?” Diggle asked him, concern inching into his tone. “Look, when I told you that she was Sara’s ballet teacher I didn’t expect you to go track her down.”

“I know, Dig” Oliver said, eyes cast downward. “I just had to see her again. She makes me feel… light.”

Diggle smiled, in spite of his concern. “I’m glad for that, really, but you need to be careful. If you keep going to see her as the vigilante, someone’s bound to notice.”

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly go see her as Oliver Queen.”

“Why not? I told you she does IT freelancing to help keep her studio afloat. Make up a computer problem and go talk to her.”

Oliver didn’t say anything, because he knew Diggle was right. When the silence stretched on, Diggle offered an idea.

“How about you come watch your goddaughter at her next lesson? Meet Felicity as Oliver Queen, see how it goes?”

“Maybe.”

*

Oliver didn’t take Diggle up on his offer. Not right away, at least. He kept visiting Felicity a few nights a week, and they developed a routine. He would arrive in his leathers, say hello, and then remove the outfit for his lesson. Since he couldn’t talk without the voice modulator, Felicity would chatter away, and Oliver learned a lot about her. They even developed a bit of a language for when he was mute, he would touch her hand if he didn’t understand her instructions, and touch her shoulder if he wanted her to repeat something. 

The only sound he allowed himself to make was the occasional laugh, but it was never because he wanted to. It was always reluctant but unavoidable, because Felicity brought it out in him against his will, her stories and babbles were hopelessly charming.

He reveled in the moments where she touched him. Small hands caressing his muscles, moving and shaping his limbs as she taught him some basic ballet positions. Felicity was a professional, hands never lingering longer than necessary, but he didn’t miss the way she eyed his shadowed form whenever he removed his leathers, her face lit by the office light, the only light ever present during his lessons.

At the end of the lesson, he would put his leathers back on, offer her payment, which she always refused, and then he would be on his way. She never tried to figure out his identity, which he was equal parts grateful for and frustrated by.

After a few months, he realized the lessons weren’t enough. So he called Diggle.

*

Felicity was nervous on the best of days when parents to stayed to watch lessons. But when one of those parents brought Oliver Queen with him? Felicity was barely keeping it together.

“Mr. Diggle! It’s lovely to see you again.”

“You too, Felicity. This is my good friend, and Sara’s godfather, Oliver.”

Oliver stuck out his hand toward her with a friendly, nervous smile on his face.

“Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.”

“Yes. I, uh, I know who you are Mr. Queen.” She said with an internal wince, shaking his hand quickly before turning back to Diggle. “We’re doing some recital prep today, so you picked a good day to come. You both can have a seat over there.” Felicity gestured vaguely to some chairs set up in the corner, before turning to teach her class.

She tried to teach as normally as possible, but it was tough with the two whispering men in the corner. They both watched Sara intently, but Felicity could occasionally feel eyes on her. She was good with kids, her open nature making her a trusting figure to young children, and she was glad they weren’t sensing her distraction, because the lesson was going surprising well.

She was just wrapping up when she heard a very familiar sounding laugh in the room. She whipped her head around, eyes scanning, but still only found Sara’s father and godfather.

_I must be hearing things._

*

“Well that went well.” Vigilantes didn’t pout, but Oliver figured his face was formed as close to a pout as he could get.

“It went fine.” Diggle intoned, cradling Sara in his arms as they left the studio.

“We barely spoke. She called me Mr. Queen.” Oliver knew he was struggling to hide his frustration.

“You know, you could just tell her who you are.” At Oliver’s silence, Diggle continued. “It’s been a few months. You know a lot about her, what does she know about you? I know you like this girl. Give her a chance to like you back. She’ll be good for you.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Oliver muttered as he followed Diggle, but the wheels were already turning in his mind.

*

Felicity was scrambling around backstage. Coordinating a recital with a bunch of toddlers was exhausting but ultimately very rewarding. Felicity kept reminding herself of the latter while she was frantically searching for some misplaced props. The recital was nearly over, only one routine remained, and Felicity had occasionally peeked out to take in the excited parents watching their children. She even allowed herself a moment to check out Oliver Queen, who had showed up with the Diggle family.

She couldn’t think about that, at the moment, because she had a tiara to find. She moved a pile of feather boas and squealed in triumph as she found the tiara and passed it off to the waiting child. She had just sent the gaggle of princesses onto the stage, when she turned around and let out a shriek of surprise when the vigilante dropped from above her to block her path.

He held a finger up to his lips, signaling her to be quiet, before he simultaneously handed her a bottle of red wine, and pulled back his hood, light from the stage illuminating the face in front of her.

Felicity did a double take, before turning around to glance back out at the audience, only to find the seat next to John Diggle was now unoccupied.

“Mr. Queen?” Felicity whispered, mindful of the performance happening behind her.

“I think you can call me Oliver.” He whispered with a grin. “I always appreciated that you never tried to figure it out, but I thought it was time you knew.”

Felicity nodded dumbly, looking down at the wine bottle in her hands. _A 1982 Lafite Rothschild?_ She thought, blinking stupidly at the very expensive bottle in her hands.

“Congratulations on the recital, Felicity. Sara looked great up there.” He paused. “Maybe next time I can perform.” He had leaned closer, whispering in her ear.

This seemed to snap Felicity out of her stupor. “I didn’t know you wanted to.” She replied.

“I’d do anything that meant spending more time with you.” He smiled softly down at her. He leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss against her lips, before shooting an arrow up into the rafters, disappearing just as the audience burst into applause at the last routine.

*

When Oliver showed up for his next lesson, it was as himself. He even used the front door. He sweetly kissed his instructor before getting down to business. Now, he told the stories while Felicity taught him. He laughed more freely, and she touched more liberally.

And when the next recital rolled around, Felicity choreographed a Robin Hood themed routine for Oliver. Diggle’s laughter could be heard from backstage.


End file.
